Lamenting over all the great (and just ok) motorcars that never reach America's shores. You can look, but don't drive.

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Taxi!

The first one was just an aberration. It was late, I was lost in deepest darkest Astoria, (it might as well have been Peloponnese), and I was still feeling the effects of my friends old-school homemade egg nog. Like the Alfa 156 I saw driving down 8th avenue, the 405 coupe in Larchmont, and the A3 coupe parked at the Weehawken ferry, I must have been mistaken, my eyes were playing tricks on me. But yesterday as I enjoyed the unseasonably warm weather, there was another one. This time it was broad daylight, there was light traffic, and there was no mistake about it. It was a London taxi. Looking somewhat uncomfortable in its bright yellow cladding, its Taxi light shining brite , this was no tourist trap, or bank promotion. This was the real deal. A medallion clad, fully-functioning New York city cab - ready and waiting to be hailed down. The Crown Vics must be wincing at the sight of the incredibly practical, passenger friendly LTI (London Taxis International) "TXIIs". Anyone who has ever had the pleasure of a trip in a TXII knows what I am talking about. These are proper cabs, like Checkers used to be. Civility has returned to the streets. My trips to the Astoria will never be the same.